


Highway of Realization

by doilycoffin



Series: Wincest Love Week (Summer) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Meditation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7194392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doilycoffin/pseuds/doilycoffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has no problem lying about being in a relationship with Sam in order to score some easy cash. The problem comes when he realizes that he wants the lie to become the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Highway of Realization

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2: [Fake Relationship](http://lesbianrey.tumblr.com/post/139998890690/looks-like-the-perfect-opportunity-for-the-fake)
> 
> Note: Title comes from the quote "Meditation is the signpost directing the steps to the main highway of realization" (Guy Bogart).

“Hey Sammy, check it out,” Dean said as he loudly shut the motel room door and unceremoniously slammed a flyer that he snagged off of a lamppost down on the table where Sam was doing research and nearly toppled a cup of coffee onto his laptop in the process.

Sam took a second to glare at Dean for the near-miss before taking a look at the flyer that advertised a research study involving romantic couples hosted at a local college.

“What the hell, Dean?,” he asked. “Do you think this is connected to the case?”

“To the werewolf attacks? Doubt it. But it might be connected to the case of our empty wallets. A hundred bucks each for doing a week’s worth of couple-y mumbo jumbo sounds like easy money to me,” he explained. “Besides, it says that each session only takes like twenty minutes, so we’ll have plenty of time to continue looking into this werewolf shit afterwards.”

Sam still looked unconvinced. “Did you miss the part where it said that the study is for _romantic_ couples?”

“So what? If we can pass ourselves off as federal agents on a regular basis, then I’m pretty sure we can lie about being a couple,” Dean said dismissively.

“I don’t know, Dean…if we lie about being in a relationship, then we’ll just be ruining the integrity of the study. Someone’s probably staking part of their career on the results of it,” Sam pointed out.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a nerd,” he cajoled. “And hell, what if this _is_ connected to the case? Maybe the werewolves around here are as hard-up for cash as we are. It would be irresponsible not to look into this. Plus, there’ll probably be a lot of chicks at this thing.”

“Chicks in long-term monogamous relationships.”

“Whatever.”

Sam gave a long-suffering sigh and Dean knew that his flawless logic had shown him the light (that or he had just worn Sam down to the point of giving up. Either way, he was counting it as a win).

The next day, they drove to the college to attend an initial consultation with the head of the research study to learn the specifics of the upcoming sessions and Dean entertained himself in the waiting room by folding pamphlets into paper footballs and flicking them at an unamused Sam. He had just scored a ten pointer when a willowy, blonde, middle-aged woman came through the office door with a clip board in hand.  

“You must be Mr. Seger and Mr. Hammett,” she said, politely ignoring the fact that Sam was picking paper out of his hair while a smirking Dean looked on. “If you’ll both just follow me, this should only take a few minutes.”

“My name is Professor Warren, and I’ll be leading the study,” she introduced. “Before I go into the specifics of the sessions that I’ll be conducting, I just want to ask you a few questions about your relationship.” At their nods, she continued. “How long have you two been together in a romantic capacity?”

Before Dean could spin something together, Sam answered “We’ve together for ten years and lived with each other for the same amount.”

While the Professor jotted this down, Dean mentally counted back the years and realized that Sam was using the date that they began hunting together again and mentally congratulated him for keeping it simple.

“And how highly would you rate your communication skills as a couple?,” she asked.

At this, Dean couldn’t help but wince as a slideshow of all the times they had lied, concealed, or misled each other over the years played through his head. Judging by the fact that he could see Sam shifting in his chair uncomfortably, he guessed that he was doing the same thing.

“It…could be better,” Sam admitted.

“Well, for the purposes of this study, that might actually be a good thing,” she said. “My focus as an academic is on the study of communication, and it’s my hope that the exercises I’ve put together will be able to both help couples cope more effectively with stress and lead to more open communication.”

Dean doubted that there was any exercise in the world that could help them cope with the kind of monster and apocalypse related stress that they put up with on a daily basis, but he put on his most charming (and non-sleazy, despite what Sam might say) smile and said, “Well, hey, we’ll try anything. What exactly is on the agenda here?”

“The sessions that you’ll be participating in for the next week will be focused on guided meditation exercises that are designed to focus on you both as individuals as well as on your relationship with each other,” she explained.

At the mention of meditation, Dean couldn’t tell if he was elated or disgruntled. On the one hand, it sounded like a bunch of hippie bullshit. But on the other hand, twenty minutes of pretending to meditate was a hell out of a lot better than twenty minutes of sharing feelings or doing weird trust exercises in his opinion. After a couple of more minutes’ worth of questions, they left the office with instructions to return the following day for their first session and Dean prepared himself for impending boredom.

The next day, they arrived on campus at what looked like an empty dance studio. Yoga mats were strewn on the floor and at least ten other couples were milling about, making small talk with each other.

“See any werewolves yet?,” Sam joked.

“Hey, you never know. That middle aged dude in the teal tracksuit over there looks pretty ferocious.”

Before Sam could reply, Professor Warren entered the room and everyone quieted before sitting down on the mats next to their respective partners.

“I’m glad that you were all able to make it here,” she began. “Today we’re going to start off with some simple breathing exercises, so I’d like you all to find a position that you find comfortable. I would also recommend that you hold hands with your partner throughout these sessions, but it’s not required.”

Dean snorted at this and got an elbow to the ribs from Sam for his trouble.

“Once you’re all settled, I’d like for you to close your eyes and focus on my voice before taking three deep breaths…”

As she continued speaking, Dean tuned her out and tried not to fidget. As he sat there, he let his mind wander to keep himself from becoming mind-numbingly bored. After around twenty minutes, he had spent plenty of time fantasizing about the hot, red-headed waitress with the great rack at the diner from last night but couldn’t remember ninety percent of what Professor Warren had said during the session.

The next couple of days followed similar patterns. The professor would greet the group, describe the meditation they were about to engage in (“loving kindness meditation”? What the hell?), and Dean would promptly check out and begin thinking about fast cars and hot women (or, his personal favorite, hot women _in_ fast cars) until they were able to leave.

“At least we only have to do a few more days of this crap,” he said gratefully to Sam on the fourth day as they drove back to the motel.

Sam shrugged. “I think the exercises are actually kind of helpful. It’s relaxing.”

“Seriously?,” Dean asked incredulously. “You’ve actually been paying attention to them?”

Sam frowned and turned to pin Dean with a glare. “You haven’t been?”

“Why would I? Like you said, it’s not like we’re _actually_ a couple, so I don’t really see the point in trying to improve a romantic relationship that doesn’t exist. Do you?,” he asked, confused.

A flush rose across Sam’s face. “O-of course not,” he stuttered out. “You’re right. I just want to make sure that I’m able to provide Professor Warren with helpful feedback at the end of the week. She seems like a nice woman and I don’t want to screw up her study,” he finished while refusing to meet Dean’s gaze.

After that, Sam fell into a sullen silence and almost as soon as they got to the motel, he was out the door again and gave Dean a half-assed excuse of having to go to the library to do more research, leaving Dean to wonder what the hell had gotten into him.

Sam still wasn’t in a better mood the next day, and the drive to campus felt awkward for reasons that Dean still didn’t understand. The session began like it usually did, but Dean decided that he would actually listen to what the professor was saying this time. Just this once, and just to stop Sam from bitching at him, he told himself.

“Today, we’re going to try another loving-kindness meditation,” she said once everyone was in position. “I want you to all visualize someone for whom you already feel warm, tender, compassionate feelings. Someone who the mere thought of makes you smile.”

Unbidden, Sam’s face materialized in Dean’s head and he squirmed a little in his seat.

“As you take in that image, call to mind this loved one’s good qualities,” she continued.

At this, Dean couldn’t help but again think about Sam. Sam and his kindness, his capacity to forgive, the way he managed to hold onto hope even when Dean wanted to throw in the towel. The way he scrunched up his nose when Dean told an off-color joke that he didn’t want to admit was hilarious. When Dean’s mind drifted to the way that Sam’s ass looked in a nice pair of jeans (or a bad pair. His ass always looked pretty good), his heartbeat quickened and he desperately tried to cut off that train of thought.

“Now, take a moment to visualize how connecting with this loved one makes you feel.”

So what if Dean felt lighter whenever he saw Sam’s dimpled smile? So what if knowing that Sam was with him was the only thing on this godforsaken planet that could make Dean drag himself out of bed somedays? So what if sometimes he was overcome with the urge to pin his own brother against the nearest wall and kiss him stupid? He could deal with it. He had _been_ dealing with it for a long time, and repression was working fine so far. Mostly.

“Now that you have this person firmly in mind, repeat the following phrases silently: ‘may you be safe, may you be peaceful, may you be healthy, and may you live with ease and well-being’”

 _Fat chance for any of that_ , he thought bitterly. Sam deserved safety, peace, and a life of ease; it’s all Dean wanted for his brother, but it’s not like he could ever actually give it to him with the life they led. Still, he repeated the mantra to himself anyway. Couldn’t hurt to try, at least.

Later that evening, a question nagged at Dean as he polished off a fifth slice of pizza in their room.

“Can I ask you something, Sammy?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Who were you thinking of today?,” he asked, trying to shoot for a casual tone.

“What do you mean?,” Sam responded evasively.

“I mean, who did you think of when you got asked to think of someone who you have ‘tender, compassionate feelings’ for and all that bullshit.”

Sam fidgeted with his half-eaten slice of pizza and tried to avoid answering the question. “I’m surprised you were actually paying attention.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll try anything once. Fess up, Sammy,” Dean prodded.

Sam swallowed and turned his head away. “Fine, I was thinking about _you._ But don’t let it go to your head; it’s only because—“

Before Sam could finish rambling, Dean crossed the distance between them and, while leaning forward and bracing his arms on both sides of Sam on the bed he sat on, tilted his brother’s chin upwards and placed long, gentle kiss on his lips. When he pulled away, he could see that Sam’s face was slightly red and his eyes seemed dazed.

Dean smiled hopefully. “I didn’t read that wrong, did I?,” he asked, knowing fully well that he didn’t.

“No,” Sam confirmed, “You read it just right,” and he yanked Dean forward by the collar of his shirt for another kiss.

After a few minutes of making out like a couple of teenagers, Sam turned to Dean.

“So, who did _you_ think about,” he asked with a dimpled grin in full force.

Dean put a lewd smile on his face and said, “Oh, you know, just that sexy waitress from a few nights--” and was interrupted by Sam kicking him soundly in the shin.

“Ow, Christ, I was kidding!”

When they were sitting in the studio in their usual positions the next day, he looked around at the other happy couples around them as they sat hand in hand with their partners. His own hand twitched as he thought about doing the same with Sam, but he kept it firmly on his thigh because he wasn’t sure if the gesture would be welcome or not (or, more importantly, whether Sam would make fun of him if he did it).

He was saved from this inner turmoil when he felt Sam’s own hand reach for his and lace their fingers together. He glanced up in surprise and looked at Sam’s knowing, peaceful smile before squeezing the hand intertwined with his.

Maybe there was something to this meditation thing after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The basic premise of the study mentioned in the fic and the meditations quoted were taken from the actual research study shown in the flyer from the prompt. It's called the Supportive Conversations Project and, if you're curious, you can access the meditations [here](http://supportiveconversationsproject.umn.edu/supporting-couples-study/already-enrolled-click-here)


End file.
